


It Took a Stupid Mistake; Hammer Not Required.

by Genkai



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genkai/pseuds/Genkai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I decided to write something in light of the recent issue in the media with him punching a producer over something silly. I thought my other one, "When it Rains, it Pours and I Forgot my Bloody Umbrella." was a good thing for the fans of the TGUK community so this is an unofficial sequel to that. As such, this is from his perspective and hopefully it provides some laughs to readers because right now we could likely use it, given the final verdict. His son and daughter (along with his mates) help him weed through the rubbish events in his life, as of recent times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Took a Stupid Mistake; Hammer Not Required.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this helps some fans out there. I also hope this section of AO3 doesn't begin collecting too much dust. As uncertain as the future is, we're all still a TG family of fans who have supported Jeremy, James and Richard over the years. Some information has been released, some hasn't so I'm trying to make sense of it as best I can. Some sources are even contradicting one another so hopefully this story can wash out alright. Thanks, and enjoy guys. As a note, I tried making this over three weeks ago but it finally took Jeremy's recent column to give me the rush I needed.

It seems every couple of months the BBC find something to complain about and it's usually me because I make myself such an easy target.

If you ask me though, May would be much easier due those stripey or floral jumpers he wears. Or even his shoes, as lately they've turned neon which might be, given some more serious thought, due to our trip to Chernobyl last year. Either way. these constant attacks aren't anything new but that certainly doesn't grant them enjoyable or easy to navigate. Thanks to sites like Facebook, Twitter, Reddit and whatever other internet gatherings are buzzing, the public are now able to read news and comment quicker than it takes for the light at an intersection to turn from yellow to red.

And for the love all things holy, put down your damn cell phone, pull up your trousers and watch at the damn road!

In my mind, people should have more important things to do than read about what I've been up to. Surely they have jobs to do, errands to run, novels to write, pints to drink, planes to catch or children to feed and bathe. Would it surprise you that even I do all those aforementioned things and still manage to piss somebody who thinks they're important, off? And yet I can be found, sitting in my living room staring at the wall just above the telly because there's nothing good on. It's been this way ever since the "fracas," a word which has been so deeply clawed into my skull that even when Dementia or Alzheimer's kick in, I will still cringe and shudder when hearing it, tasting unforgettable bitterness as my nurse frets about the latest gossip she heard out in the hallway about which boy band is making a comeback.

It's been a few of weeks since my contract was cast aside, the BBC electing to not renew it due to the numerous problems they've had with me.

During those weeks, I've reflected upon my actions, drank a bit, and tried to keep my head down. Em and Finlo came around but as they've got their own lives, they weren't able to entertain or distract me for very long. Hammond and May have also been rather quiet but it seems Hammond has posted some video on Youtube about what he's been going through, boredom. May's been competing against Gordon Ramsay, cooking up two dishes in his home while he bumbles around with his spanners and other bits which he's named Clive or Steve or Dave. Even though I've been bored, I have been able to find some comfort online and it might only be a matter of time before I make some video but the thing is, I'm useless and the video would probably be nitpicked to death by the media.

At least the media are just as useless as I am.

It's thanks to them, that things got so far out of hand in the first place. The BBC had to act quickly to cover up the holes which many so-called articles had created. I don't blame the BBC for being tight-lipped but it's that reason, that neglect for clarity and honesty, that resulted in the online community exploding with wild rumors and ridiculous hearsay. And because of their stingy nature of releasing information, it seemed most fans of Top Gear were coming to my defense, saying whoever it was must have deserved a decent punch in the face, which I can't agree with. Some fans even went as far as to create a petition online to lift my suspension. It warmed my heart but did nothing to settle the rattling weariness in my chest. Then of course, there were other readers who weren't necessarily fans since their opinions were far more bitter about me not being fired outright, or were just gleeful that I was finally getting some sort of justice for all the horrid things I had done to the world, and of course to them personally.

Had I intentionally hit their beloved pet with my SLS?

Certainly with the amount of hate geared towards my existence, I'd assume I'd have to have done it while taking my youngest to school or during a taping of the show because I'd have to be practicing some staggering efforts of multitasking if all these angry morons have felt so strongly against me and my actions. Was it anyone's damn business? No but I'm Jeremy Clarkson, host of a pokey little motoring show on Sunday nights (or whenever you catch us on Dave), so of course that warrants a lot more attention and assumptions through social media and tabloids.

More news came about a week later that I would not be returning to Top Gear at all.

Now that, I hadn't seen coming.

The news hit me hard and I had several personal calls from friends who wanted to offer their condolences as if I had lost my mum all over again.

In a way, I had.

I loved my mother, not just because she was all I had left or because she made the best chips in the world, but because she could see past the images painted upon my face when I stepped into the public eye. My mother was clever and kind and I did my best to repay her for the crap she had to put up with when it came to raising me and my sister. Losing my father wasn't easy, nor did it prepare me for my mum's passing later down the road. Losing your parents reminds you that you're human, that you're dispensable, that your time is limited.

That you will be next.

But losing Top Gear didn't remind me of death and its inevitability, it just reminded me how empty that precious amount of time could feel without fulfilling your purpose.

And cocking about with my mates and driving fast cars was somehow the closest I could come to finding my purpose, as terrible as that sounds.

My fate with something I've spent decades polishing and primping, enjoying and defending, was sealed but I knew James and Richard, and all the others had a chance to continue to work, to make some damn good television. I knew there was a very good chance that James and Richard would leave as I had been forced to. I just hoped one stupid mistake wouldn't cost more people their own livelihoods or dreams. Working with the whole Top Gear family was tremendous fun and I could sit here and continue to regret punching Tymon but it wouldn't change or mend anything. What I did was wrong and I will fully admit to that. I almost want to commend BBC on actually making a fuss over something real and not fabricated like some of the other recent faffs in the media. But wallowing in regret or pity was like walking through life in a constant state of being hungover.

It would make me and everyone else around me perpetually miserable.

The online chatter has now quieted down and the wind in the sails has faded and it finally looks like my slump may be concluding.

I knew Top Gear would end, would need to give the wheel to three younger, slightly less fat balding blokes who didn't dine on fast food regularly and smoke fags every goddamn day. Everyone knew our time as hosts was limited and that made things even more fun. A crew member named Jim wanted to get some kind of bear behind the wheel of a car and we had also planned more cheap car challenges as we knew they were more fun and rather requested from many many fans. Top Gear wasn't even close to wrapping up but when it would, we all knew how we wanted to go out and being mauled by the press was certainly not a suggestion we had played around with over beers at the pub after filming. So in my mind, I haven't ended things. Not properly anyway. I could realistically take a different concept, be it with cars or hammers, and go to another company. I could even give my old colleagues a ring and see how much they fancy returning to the spotlight.

What were their names again?

Hammock and Mead?

Something a bit like that, I'm old so my memory comes and goes.

But having finalized my divorce, lost my mum, gone through a cancer scare (getting a clean bill of (relative) health has been the highlight of my dull week) and now have let my brief fit of rage hurt an innocent man and shatter my livelihood, has all caught up with me. My children are pretty much all grown up, my youngest son on the cusp of becoming independent which means the holes in my life are only appearing to deepen, widen and drastically multiply at an alarming rate. No amount of hammering or playing XBOX will fill them. The only remedy for the three of us to find purpose is if we get back to what we do best, which is fooling around, traveling and giving expert consumer advice on which new economical electric super-car you should buy. If you needed any help there, you obviously haven't been paying attention.

It's the McLaren P1, folks.

With a hefty sigh, I rose from my armchair and grabbed the remote to turn off the tv, which had been on mute in order to politely leave me to my thoughts about the past and future, as the present was much too boring and pointless to pay any mind to. But now my mind was present because plans had to be finalized for us to have a future where good people got paychecks for their brilliant editing and cinematography and for driving round a bend at exactly 135 mph. I grabbed my cell and called up the only three people who could help make things right.

Four hours later, just as the sun had slipped coyly under the jagged horizon, I walked into the pub and found Andy and Richard sitting at the bar, the space in front of them empty.

No one bothered to pay me any mind as I walked over and patted them both on the back in an attempt to greet them. We hadn't gotten together since the events back at the BBC Headquarters two weeks or so ago. We had exchanged some emails but not much else. There were vivid remnants of guilt as I took a seat beside Hammond and ordered a beer as Andy's and Hammond's were placed in front of their dry mouths. Andy took a drink but Richard waited to do so, "You been keeping up with the rumor mill? No one is eager to replace you, I think the BBC shot themselves in the foot." He said and finally took a drink of his weak piss which somehow still got to be classified as beer.

"They did what they needed to do. It's unfortunate it had to happen the way it did." I shrugged, not wanting to stir anything up right now. "I made a mistake."

"It's not like you attacked him or actually got into a full on fight." Hammond insisted. "I mean, between you me and May, I would have thought I'd be the one getting in trouble for starting a fight."

It was true. I really wasn't fond of fighting.

Hammond on the other hand, love picking fights when he got a bit overly drunk.

The hamster was certainly a scrapper and yet I'm the ape who ended up punching someone and created a mudslide.

"We were drunk, mistakes were made, just be glad there aren't any further charges or investigations." Andy finally spoke up. Andy and I went back farther than May or Hammond. And yet Andy had decided not to leave. He had to make that clear when some random email had been leaked. There were no hard feelings between either of us but I still felt incredibly bad about the whole mess and what he and everyone else on the crew had to go through. Richard glanced to Andy and took another drink while I checked my watch. James was always late, that was to be expected. If he was more than thirty minutes late, then we usually called and made sure he hadn't made a wrong turn and ended up in Wales or somehow Germany.

"There have been offers, quiet ones." I said, not wanting to say much more until Captain Slow showed up.

Finally the door opened and in came the man in question. His shaggy hair was a bit longer and he and had on some pale pink floral print. Clearly he hadn't been tardy because he was trying to pick out his clothes. "Sorry." May apologized and sat down beside Andy and ordered a beer in his usual quiet tone. "How've you been holding up?" He asked me, leaning over the bar slightly to see around Andy who was keen to just listen for the time being.

"I'm bored and lonely." I said. "I know you two are also bored but consider yourselves lucky that you have people at home to talk to."

"What about Finlo?" Hammond spoke up.

"School today." I replied.

"I have been considering taking up teaching." May commented as he took a peanut and popped it into the air and caught it in his mouth.

"Your future students urge you to reconsider." Hammond teased and reached over for the bowl which May slide towards him. With my longer arms, I was able to grab a few and nibble on them as we talked. "So Jeremy said he's had some offers. Offers for what?"

"What do you think?" I snorted. "The three of us were part of a very successful proragmme and powerful people aren't stupid, they can spot a hit when they see one and with all three of us up for grabs, I am willing to bet that we can rustle up a pretty good offer. It could be about cars but it could be about more than that." I said.

"Top Gear was rarely about cars." Andy spoke up, having finished his pint already. "It was always about the three of you and the Stig."

"I would just like to get back to work." James said quietly as he took a drink.

"I love my home and my family but with all of this downtime, it feels different than when it did between shooting the series." Hammond agreed and I held my glass my hand, feeling the smooth coolness begin to warm the longer I clutched it. I screwed up. I screwed up things for myself, May and Hammond. I also screwed things up for the other crew members, the BBC (even if they're a bunch of blithering idiots and pencil pushers), and Tymon. Regardless of the outcome, Tymon will forever be associated with me being fired and it's not his fault.

But the worst I've screwed over, is the fans of the show.

Anywhere in the world we went, we had fans, people whose faces lit up when they spotted us. Many encounters were very warm and positive, as many fans had stories to tell about their own cars or how the show changed their life in some way. The attention was sometimes overwhelming but overall, it was humbling and the best part of my job. And now the show is over and will be reborn as something else. It might still change people's lives and make money but it will never be what it was when me, Andy, James and Richard were at the helm. "I really am, truly sorry." I muttered as I eyed the swirling foam at the top of my beer. Most of it had dissipated but what remained, was somehow very soothing to my raw soul. Hammond patted my back and let out a feathery sigh.

"It's alright." He told me. "We didn't think things would spiral out of control the way they did."

"We can put it back together, it'll just be different." James chimed in as he finished his beer and took a few more peanuts.

"So you three are going to carry on then." Andy asked though by his tone, it was more of statement than a question. "I had no doubt you lot would, you three have something that cannot be replicated." He smiled.

"We should do something with camping!" Richard blurted out, his eyes darting between all of us with boyish excitement.

"I am too old for camping." I asserted.

"And I just don't want to do it." May added.

"What about touring the world's museums?" I suggested.

"I quite like that." May agreed but Hammond then went into a two minute tirade about how he'd rather be eaten alive by every insect in Bolivia, than listen to me or James go on about the war, or history, or anything remotely academic and intelligent. Whenever my family and I would vacation, I made sure we had at least one trip where we did things like tour ruins or museums or libraries. I wanted to make sure I was imparting knowledge to my kids so they didn't just goof off. They were very smart and I wanted to make sure they continued to build upon their knowledge. No child of mine was going to end up an uneducated hillbilly. By the time Hammond winded down, our second round of beers had been presented to us and we got back to drinking and talking about various tidbits. We talked about Hammond's kids and May's girlfriend and then we talked about how there wasn't anything good on tv anymore. "I never noticed it before. Has it always been so rubbish?" May asked, his chilled glass already nearly empty.

"I dunno, we've been busy filming and traveling." Hammond pondered.

The rest of the evening was spent drinking and snacking on bar food. By the time Mindy rang up Hammond to check in, we had become properly drunk. Hammond assured his wife that he'd take a cab and stay with me while another cab was arranged for Andy, as I had invited James over for the night as well. I knew Finlo would be with Francie for the weekend and there was no way I would stumble into my empty home and pretend that some up-in-the-air offer could make me feel less alone and afraid. Once Andy left, our cab pulled up and it quickly drove us back to my Hammersmith flat. We paid and headed inside. Hammond went to go inspect my kitchen's contents while May excused himself to the bathroom.

I made my way into the living room and popped open the DVD player and put in our Vietnam Special.

It wasn't often I sat down and watched the product of our labor (mostly because I saw enough of it with the editing and whatnot) but it felt like a good enough time.

When the others joined me, we sat down and watched our adventure unfold, as looking back was easier than forward at the moment.

"Blimey, feels like yesterday we were there." Richard said in awe as the screen showed Hammond and May leaving me behind to suffer on my own green monster. As much as we joked about leaving each other on the side of the road to fend for ourselves, we still stuck together when it really mattered. I knew Hammond and May would come with me, wherever that would be. But to have them sitting there on my couch, in my dimly lit home where happy memories were once made, felt truly good. I didn't feel alone and my time didn't feel like it was being painfully extracted. Time felt normal, felt like it was being used the way it should be, rather than making silly videos and herding sheep.

"The beauty made up for the misery."

"Aw come on, by the end of it, you loved your bike. Er scooter." James insisted.

"I did not." I huffed. When morning came, the three of us were greeted with massive headaches and a very flimsy will to live. We made breakfast and ended up watching the Winter Olympics Special and the Burma one. By the time noon rolled around, I got a call from my eldest daughter, Emily. The video was paused and I picked up. "Hello darling." There was a pause as she asked how I was doing. I glanced to my left and saw Hammond and May giving commentary while they waited for me. "I'm actually doing quite well. James and Richard are over, we had a bit of a busy night drinking..." I trailed off as she seemed delighted that I was leaving the house more. She then mentioned that she didn't care much for the trip to the pub but that she knew things would start to look up. I asked how she was. She filled me in about her and her boyfriend were, as well as how she heard mum was with her brother. A pang of loneliness was thwarted as I told myself that the divorce was for the best.

We were happier apart.

And now that the kids have grown up, things didn't need to remain so complicated.

"I love you, g'bye sweetheart." I hung up and slipped the phone back into my pocket. My friends glanced over and I picked up the remote and unpaused it. We resumed making comments and jokes until the credits began to roll twenty-two minutes later. The three of us decided to part ways as Hammond knew the drive would take him a bit of time and May said he wanted to go back and make a video about bike maintenance. We shuffled into my BMW and I drove back up towards the pub where their cars were waiting. "You're welcome to join me." James offered as we neared our destination.

"I think I'll pass, we'll be in front of the real cameras soon and it'll be a proper show." I replied as I pulled up to the sidewalk and did a shit job of parallel parking.

"Alright, see you later then." James smiled and waved before he got out and scuttled off to his car down the block. Hammond remained in the seat beside me for another moment.

"Don't think of this as one of your usual cock-ups, mate. You didn't kill the show." He said. "They had been looking for a reason and they finally got a good enough one to get you out of their hair." Hammond unbuckled his seatbelt and glanced out the window ahead of us. "No matter where we end up, we'll all be screwing up right along with ya." He flashed me a smile before he let himself out and shut the door. He also headed off and not to my surprise, rolled off on one of the bikes he decided to keep. I watched him leave and I glanced to the pub, almost beginning to feel parched. Ultimately I shook my head and drove back to my home ten minutes away. Once I pulled up and got out, I hesitated and began to think about the things that weren't wrong with the world.

Piers Morgan was still an arse but we could at least share a few drinks and not try to land any punches.

Having cut back on smoking, I can now jog without doubling over every five minutes.

I'm staring to eat healthier which makes my children happy.

I'm starting to feel less gutted when I think about my mum.

And Top Gear is dead, but it will continue wherever May, Hammond and myself decide to plant ourselves, and that is what will help me get up in the morning, as opposed to keeping me up at night.

I fucked up, I didn't even need a hammer to do so but thankfully my life could be worse, but isn't.

It is clear that the amount of fans outnumber those who hate me and everything that comes out of my big mouth. It's also clear that the three of us aren't even close to retiring from entertainment. And it's also clear that all three of us have many things to be thankful for. We've had some close calls, had some heated arguments but what matters the most is that we've stuck together and were able to make millions of people around the world laugh and learn (sometimes). Top Gear is like a child but it's time Top Gear grew up and that wasn't going to happen with us sticking around. Andy is a good man and I trust that he will do what is best for the show and tell the BBC to sod off like I would, when they nitpick as they usually do. As I walked into my house and began to clean up, I found the usual anxiety wasn't as overwhelming as it's been the past week. Instead I'm filled now with what some might consider hope. A new show was what would be remade from the rubble. James, Richard and myself would continue to do what we do best, do what makes us feel alive and accomplished.

With offers taking shape and the three of us ready to talk seriously to bigwigs, it is certain that a new project will be made and spread across the world and we'd finally be free of oppression and political correctness, unless of course Russia was serious about that offer...


End file.
